


Beroya

by chiroptera



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: I just want them to talk, M/M, anyway spoilers for episode 15, post episode 15, theres like a blink and youll miss it mention of child endangerment because grogu, well i guess kinda mid episode 15?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:47:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28087203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiroptera/pseuds/chiroptera
Summary: “Most people call me Mando.”“Sure, but that hardly narrows it down to just you right now, does it?”Din can hear rather than see the grin on Fett’s face saying that. He rolled his eyes, making sure to bob his helmet so Fett would catch the movement.“They’ll know you’re talking about me because you’re saying it.”
Relationships: Din Djarin/Boba Fett
Comments: 46
Kudos: 830





	1. Chapter 1

“What do you remember of the Clone Wars?”

There had been a pile of old B2 droids near where Fett had landed the Slave to pick up Mayfield. Din had caught sight of them coming out of the ship, but he had pushed them aside in favor of focusing on the task at hand.

But now, after Morac...

Well. The Clone Wars seemed like a more comforting thought. 

A gruff voice responded, “What about them?”

Din was sure he was intruding at this point. He and Fett were the only ones still awake, perched up in the cockpit while Fennec and Cara slept on retractable racks below. Fett was only up there because he probably wanted to be alone, and he was only awake because of Din.

Din just needed to think about anything other than what he had had to do.

So, “Anything at all? I only have vague memories of evacuation orders, sometimes just warning pings when the battles were too close and we couldn’t leave.”

Fett was quiet for a while, silently staring out into hyperspace. His fingers drummed idly on the arms of his chair. Din was absolutely positive he was annoying him.

“I did my best to keep track of as many battalions as I could and how successful their campaigns were.”

Of course he did.

“Oh. Was that something every child did on Mandalore?”

Of course it was. Din only hadn’t because he had been a foundling in the fighting corps, he had to prove himself before he could be allowed to have the spare time to do things like that. There was no time to study macro strategies when you were too busy playing catch up learning how to throw a punch. 

Fett let out a dry chuckle, tilting his helmet toward Din. “I have no idea. I’ve never been.”

Oh. 

“Never?”

“Not once.”

Din blinked for a moment. 

“Well, it’s not worth going now.”

Fett actually huffed a quiet laugh at that, tilting his helmet back straight against his head rest.

How was Fett Mandalorian by blood and yet he’d never set foot on Mandalore? Din would understand if he was a child; not many Mandalorians have been back to the planet in a long while. But of course Fett seemed like he was about Din’s age. 

Plus, he hadn’t dared to mention it yet, but Din had heard of Fett before. Fett’s comment about how the Empire would “recognize his face” only confirmed it.

Fett had worked with the Empire, enough that even Din had heard about it. He had no idea what this might mean; he wanted to trust Fett, he really did, but he had to think of Grogu’s safety. He really hoped Fett didn’t betray them. Din liked having him around, and he was sure it wasn’t simply having another _buy’ce_ looking back at him.

“ _Beroya_.”

Din shook himself. Right. This wasn’t the Crest, and he wasn’t alone.

“What did you say?”

“I asked if you had ever been to Mandalore.”

Fett had a bit of amusement in his voice at that. At least Din was entertaining.

“I was taken there as a child, a little after I became a foundling. I never saw any of the major cities, we were a few klicks out from Keldabe- What did you call me?”

“Keldabe huh? Oh, it means bounty hunter.”

“I know but- most people call me Mando.”

“Sure, but that hardly narrows it down to just you right now, does it?”

Din can hear rather than see the grin on Fett’s face saying that. He rolled his eyes, making sure to bob his helmet so Fett would catch the movement.

“They’ll know you’re talking about me because you’re saying it.”

“But what happens if we pick up another stray like Mayfeld? They say Mando and could mean either one of us.”

Din winced at the mention of the “stray,” leading his mind back down to that Imperial terminal, to listening to that Imperial talk about killing civilians by the thousands with a twinkle in his eye, to “Brown Eyes” and how the man who knows that about him is just out there, knowing what his face looks like, and Din let him go.

No, he’s not going to deal with this right now. He’s not going to unload all of that onto Fett before he’s had any time to process it.

Instead, he says, “Oh, I see, you want other people to tell us apart using a nickname that could apply to both of us, except you came up with it this time.”

Yeah, maybe he’s lashing out a little from the reminder, but Din really hopes Fett can still hear the smile in his voice. He’s taking a risk he usually doesn’t by making a joke like this. They haven’t been traveling together for very long, it’s possible that he’ll take it the wrong way...

“Maybe you’re right. About wanting to give you a nickname anyway. Besides, we’re the only ones who would know that it applies to both of us. It could be a joke, just between us.”

Fett’s helmet was tilted his way again.

Din was blushing so hard he was almost sure that if you touched his helmet over his cheeks, it would be warm.

He-he didn’t have a response to that.

He’d been given nicknames before, but they were usually jokes aimed at him, never something that he was _in_ on.

“You know, you can say no, I could just call you Mando-“

“ _No_ \- no _beroya’s_ fine. That’s- That’s fine.”

Fett nodded, a smile clear in his voice when he said, “Great. Plan B was Ripper.”

“Wh- What?”

“Because of how you open ration bars.”

Din still wasn’t sure what Fett meant by that, but he guessed he preferred Plan A.

They lapsed into a comfortable silence.

Well, Fett did.

Din had started fidgeting with his gloves after only a few minutes of watching hyperspace stream past the huge piece of transparisteel in front of them.

At least he knew he wasn’t bothering Fett, he had been too friendly for that. But the feeling was still there, buzzing under his skin, bouncing around his skull, and demanding attention.

Din had lost everything.

This wasn’t like when he made the mistake of turning Grogu over to the imperials; he could undo that by rescuing him.

He couldn’t undo making eye contact with another sentient.

So, add it to the list. His people, his ship, his son, his creed. Hells, even most of his weapons. All gone. What was even left of him now? Who was he without all of those things?

“Hey, _beroya_.”

Who had he become? What a selfish thing to focus on. Was Grogu okay? Were they- were they hurting him? Did they just want his blood or did they need something else, something more painful? Grogu was so brave, he’d only ever seemed really afraid a few times for all the danger he’s been in. Din hoped he was still being brave. 

“ _Mesh’la_?”

Din’s head snapped up at that. He hadn’t even realized he’d been looking down.

Fett had turned his seat so he was facing Din. He had leaned forward, and even through both helmets Din felt Fett’s eyes searching him.

“What did you just call me?”

“Is that your catch phrase? You can do better.”

“No, it’s not a- why would you call me that?”

Fett leaned back slightly, giving him some space, though his eyes stayed trained on Din. His helmet tilted back and to the side, as if appraising him.

“Got your attention, didn’t it? Not like it doesn’t suit you.”

Din’s chin dropped back to his chest, as if he could hide his blush that way. He chuckled low in his chest, only having to force it a little. 

“I think you just caught your own reflection, Fett.”

Fett fully straightened, not leaning back, but tense. He sat still for a moment. 

Din had finally gone too far. He looked up at Fett, assessing the damage. 

Finally, Fett lowered his head and laughed.

Well.

Din supposed that any amount of embarrassment might just be worth getting to hear that.

“Okay, okay now that you’re done messing with me,” Is that what he thought? “I wanted to ask you something.”

Din nodded his head, expectantly.

“I know you’re not going to tell me what happened down there that’s got you acting like this.”

Din opened his mouth to apologize, maybe offer some approximate explanation, but Fett held up his hand to stop him.

“If you wanted to tell me right now, you would have already. No, I just have an idea. Something that might cheer you up.”

Fett leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees.

“You know I did some work for the Empire, a few years ago?”

Din nodded slowly, surprised. He really thought Fett would be trying to keep that a secret.

“Well, I’m pretty sure the comm code still works. and the Slave has an untraceable comm system. You could make the _hut’uun_ a little uneasy before we get there, if you wanted.”

Din smiled. Yeah. He could do that. 


	2. Chapter 2

Boba was right, he could tell.

He was back to facing front, had to be to send the transmission properly, but he could still feel the difference.

Beroya wasn’t an angry nest of fear and unrest behind him anymore. Much of that feeling had been replaced with steady determination.

There really was something cathartic about letting your prey know you hadn’t given up, even if you were torching any possibility of the element of surprise.

Boba almost thought Beroya was asleep. He had finally stopped fidgeting, pulling at his gloves and tapping at his armor.

Now he was mumbling.

“There are two layers of beskar between us, Beroya.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You just proved you can,” Boba turned his head to check on him. Beroya seemed relaxed, at least more so than he was earlier, and had his helmet resting loosely against the headrest. Contemplative. Beskar glimmered as he shook his head at the joke.

“I’m more asking if you’d humor me grilling you for a while.”

Boba swiveled around and examined Beroya more closely from behind his buy’ce. Grilling him, huh? Now that he was looking for it, the man was guarded. He didn’t fully trust him.

“You want to make sure you can trust me around your ad,” Boba crossed his arms and put his foot on his knee, “Is my word not enough? Fennec often worked similar jobs, from similar employers. Will she be receiving this grilling too?”

Beroya sighed and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands.

“She doesn’t fly around in a ship called Slave I like a holovid villain, she doesn’t have Imperial comm codes, and... she already did. It was to a lesser extent, since she’s never worked for the Empire and is wanted by the ISB. That would make any deals with them difficult to trust. You though, you have worked with them. I don’t know or care why, but you did. Fairly frequently. And,” Beroya’s helmet tilted up toward him, his hands coming unclasped and pivoting out from the elbows, as if to say  _ poof _ , “You vanished soon after your last job for Jabba. I won’t ask anything too personal, I just want to make sure that’s where any of your dealings with them end.”

Beroya’s hands came back together and he laced his fingers, his hands falling limply between his knees and his buy’ce following them. Quietly, barely picked up by his vocoder, he said, “I can’t do this again.”

_ Ka’ra _ . Fine. Trust it is. “He was a slave.”

Bare beskar gleamed as Beroya slowly sat up, his hands ending up at the edges of his thigh plates.

He huffed a small, relieved laugh, “What?”

Boba took a deep breath. Here we go.

“My father. He... he lost a fight he couldn’t afford to lose. Badly. Back during the civil war.”

Beroya nodded, so Boba continued, sinking into the old story. 

Jango hadn’t actually told him much. He had vague ideas of the civil war while his father was fighting it, he knew Jango wore armor but wasn’t Kyr’tsad. Boba had no idea what happened to the ones he fought with, just that they wore the mythosaur skull and weren’t around anymore. He assumed most of them were Cuy’val Dar, helping to train the clones.

Jango’s remembrance chant was awfully long though. 

“Death Watch had framed my father and his people for a massacre.”

Soon after Jango’s death, Boba had hunted down Tyranus. He wasn’t exactly sure what he wanted, or what he expected. For once, Boba just wanted to talk. 

“The Republic sent Jedi.”

Tyranus attacked on sight. He taunted Boba with the events of Galidraan, claiming that Boba was there to kill him as revenge for his hand in the end of the Ha’at Mando’ade. For selling his father into slavery.

Boba escaped mostly unscathed. He confirmed the story later with the Slave’s records and some slicing. 

“My father was the only one who lived. The-“

“You know about Jedi?”

Boba blinked, the cockpit coming back into focus. Orange fingers were clinging tightly to the beskar on Beroya’s thighs now. Kriff, the poor guy had only wanted to know about the last few years. Boba nodded, “Yeah, some. I’ve had dealings with a few. The last one I saw was around five, almost six years ago.”

Beroya tensed further, “Did you leave that Jedi alive?”

Boba wobbled his buy’ce from side to side. He was glad for the change of subject, but hopefully he wouldn’t have to go into detail about the jedi and his last job. It wouldn’t comfort Beroya about his lack of connection to the Empire. Better be vague then. 

“Not that I had much say in it but yeah, last I saw he was alive-“

_ “ Dank Ferrik .” _

Groaning, Beroya put his helmet in his hands and slid down in his seat.

“All that. Kryze sending me to Tano, Tano sending me to that damned mountain, Grogu being taken, my ship destroyed, and all I had to do was kick around kriffing _Tattooine_ a bit more?”

Okay, that was a lot of names. He guessed Grogu was the kid, that was easy, but, “Why were you talking to Kryze and Tano of all people?”

Beroya slid his hands down his buy’ce and dropped them into his lap with a clang.

“I was tasked with returning the kid to the Jedi. After I couldn’t find you,” he sat back up in his seat, gesturing at Boba, “the trail lead through Kryze to Tano. She wouldn’t take him, so she sent me to the planet you tracked me to. I can’t believe you know a kriffing Jedi...”

“Well that’s not entirely true,” Boba replied, grinning a little cruelly as Beroya’s buy’ce snapped back down to focus on him, “I don’t know him, we aren’t friends. I was just who the Empire hired to hunt Jedi, that’s all.”

Boba felt the glare leveled at him through both visors. He held in his laughter. The man’s kid is missing because of all this, it’s in bad taste.

“Thanks, Fett. You’re just a renowned,  _professional Jedi hunter_ _._ You weren’t friendly. That makes me feel better,” Even with the glare, there was a smile in his voice.

That sounded like permission to Boba. His arms came uncrossed, he leaned forward and laughed again. For the second time tonight, this two-steps-from random man had him laughing. Sure, the first was at his own expense, but this time-

This time Beroya was  laughing with him . And the way _that_ sounded-

Boba was screwed, wasn’t he?

No, no, not right now. he would have to handle that later. The guy’s kid was missing, he’d just been through something that had spooked him bad down on Morac, he didn’t need Boba mooning after him right now.

The thought had Boba sobering, though he stopped laughing about when Beroya did so hopefully it wasn’t noticed.

“Well,” better make sure he wasn’t caught moping, “I do apologize for you having to deal with Kryze.”

“You are not a Mandalorian.”

Boba’s helmet swiveled slowly to rest on her. She stared up at him with derision clear on her face, and all the pompous entitlement of her earlier line about higher purposes still resting in her eyes.

For a moment, Boba considered conceding. He had before, shameful though it may be; sometimes there were more important things at stake than petty squabbling about whether or not someone deserves their armor. Especially when he and the accuser had never been on the same battlefield.

No, Kryze’s opinion of him mattered far less than the potential of her help to reclaim the kid.

“I never said I was,” Boba gritted through bared teeth, concealed by his helmet. He hoped the unspoken _“_ _I never asked you_ _,”_ was clear, though he seriously doubted she would think about his words enough to get there.

The cantina was bright and airy. 

Beige, stucco walls had large windows that allowed for plenty of light, and there was an unprecedented amount of space between the tables. Boba had even walked side by side with Beroya on the way in, allowing him to scan the room alongside him and feel some relief at there only being two Nite Owls at the table. 

Even though if the third was dead that meant one less friendly on the light cruiser, there only being two here meant that when- _if_ Kryze managed to make this a fight, they’d be evenly matched.

Speaking of, Kryze’s partner, Reeves he thinks, had some smart-ass comment about side-kicks. 

If Boba took some frustration out by antagonizing her for a few moments he didn’t feel guilty about it. He wasn’t going to let this come to blows. That doesn’t mean he’ll take insults lying down.

Beroya was explaining their plan to Kryze: “The Moff has a light cruiser. It could be helpful in your effort to reclaim Mandalore.”

Boba had to force himself not to burst out laughing, derisively this time. She was trying to what?

“You’ve gotta be kidding me. Mandalore?” Boba stepped toward Beroya, turning to him and silently excluding Kryze and Reeves from this conversation. “The Empire turned that planet to glass.”

As if reminded of his presence, Kryze snarled out, “You are a disgrace to your armor.”

Boba took a deep breath, steadying himself. He would not jeopardize this mission over a few hurt feelings.

Besides, Kryze taking such offense over Boba not caring about retaking the glimmering wasteland that was Mandalore was just about ironic enough for him to be able to calmly say, “This armor belonged to my father.”

It was a peace offering, in a way. If she considered him a disgrace for his father’s actions, then she should at least take comfort in him keeping it contained to one set of beskar’gam.

A peace offering she promptly pissed all over by saying, “Don’t you mean your donor?” With a look of sheer disgust.

Oh. So that’s what this is about.

Well then. Being called dar’manda was almost expected, he was used to it, and he didn’t much care what other people thought of him. Boba knew who and what he was.

But Kryze considering him sub-sentient? Boba being able to hear the unspoken _“_ _gene scraping_ _”_ echoing behind her eyes? He couldn’t allow that to continue. They were raiding a light cruiser with six, maybe seven people. If two of them didn’t respect another member of the team as a living, irreplaceable thing then any plan they came up with would fall apart quickly.

That is what Boba told himself as he thought of his brothers and said, “I mean the last legitimate Mand’alor.”

Kryze’s face twisted in rage and she stood. Beroya backed away, positioning himself to better intercept Koska if she decided to interfere.

_Haar’chak_ , Boba was just going to have to keep him. 

“How dare you?” Kryze was about two inches away from his buy’ce. “You have no idea what you’re-“

“I know you only gained the approval of the few clans you did because of a lie. Or did you fight that teenager for the Darksaber and I somehow didn’t hear about it?”

A shadow of doubt crossed Kryze’s face. Good. She should know that people talk, and yes, some of them talk to him. Boba continued.

“If I’m honest I’m not sure how much respect you could have lost from me if you had. I had already considered you all but dar’manda from your actions as Kyr’tsad’s lieutenant. Still, when Beroya here suggested getting your help I swallowed my disgust at the idea. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you couldn’t do the same, even to save an innocent child.”

Kryze’s face was carefully blank as she turned away. “I don’t have to listen to you. You’re just a shadow.”

“Shadows won you your only claim to the throne other than that glow rod Wren stole, princess. Don’t forget that.”

Thank the  _Ka’ra_ she wasn’t on his ship.

Boba’s not entirely convinced his father wouldn’t materialize out of the walls and strangle her first, then him second for letting her on board without knocking her out first. Especially since they were working together.

He’s not sure he could stomach it all that well either. 

Though, Beroya and Kryze. Boba couldn’t put his finger on it. She had said something to him, last time they met. Beroya had much the same guarded attitude toward her as Boba, except she hadn’t even had to attack him.

Good thing he and Beroya had locked down going after the kid in a secondary wave, it put them almost alone on the Slave for a while. 

Beroya didn’t like it much, he had wanted to go alone, but Boba wasn’t just going to sit in the Slave and wait for everything to be over. That being said, he didn’t quite love the idea of Kryze shooting him in the back the second she saw that kriffing ‘saber.

So, everyone else except for the scientist was on the Imperial ship they had captured earlier and Beroya was just going to have to deal with it.

“I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t expect her to treat you that way. Or say any of that.”

Any of it? Beroya really was the last person old enough in the galaxy who had managed to never meet a clone. The man is amazing. 

“You can’t control another person. I don’t blame you, don’t worry.”

Boba caught the reflection of the buy’ce behind him nodding in the transparisteel. 

He would admit, he hadn’t expected such a reaction from Kryze either. As far as he knew, she didn’t know he existed. Why would she have such a problem with a clone taking the creed? Even if she assumed they had absolutely no Mandalorian influence to their upbringing, they had as much a right to be adopted and convert as anyone else.

No, she knew he was raised separately by Jango. That was the only explanation. 

Did she consider him a threat to her path to the throne?

Did she consider  _them_ a threat?

“What did she say?”

“Hm?” Beroya roused himself from whatever daydream he had been in, “Kryze?”

“Yeah. She said something to you, didn’t she?Last time you dealt with her. What was it?”

Boba heard him shifting behind him. Whatever it was, he was uncomfortable talking about it.

Boba began staring a hole through the back of that Imperial ship as Beroya spoke.

“This only bothered me because of how soon it was after. After. At first it was just nice to look into another buy’ce. They were the first I found, after that pretender wearing your armor anyway. You know he thought about trying to trick me into thinking it was his?”

Boba almost flipped the seat around and screamed, piloting be damned. He decided this new injustice was Kryze’s fault somehow so he would keep his eyes forward.

“Someone was  _ wearing my armor? _ For longer than it took to kill that Krayt?”

Boba stopped to think for a second. He knew Beroya was just trying to rile him up, get him to change the subject, and then stall him until they made it to the cruiser. But, “Is that why it smelled like cheap aftershave? What kind of  _di’kut_ puts on  _aftershave_ and then a  _helmet_? I had to replace the whole  _kute_ it smelled so much!”

Beroya chuckled, “I have no idea why he did it. But-“

“I apologize,” Boba interjected, a little smug, “I interrupted earlier. You should continue about Kryze. What does she have on you, Beroya?”

More shuffling over his shoulder.

Finally, “Like I said, I had lost my covert a month or so prior. Kryze told me that I was raised in a _cult_. That they were zealots.”

Maybe Boba wasn’t the only one who should worry about a bullet in the back soon.

“Fett?”

Boba held up a hand, silently asking Beroya to be quiet for a moment. It was about time to jump to hyperspace, and that likely meant that Kryze or Koska would be on the radio right about...

“Ready to jump?”

Kryze then. Boba told himself he had just been told anything other than what he had just heard so he could grit out: “Ready when you are, princess,” and close the line. He’ll reopen it when they jump out. Probably. 

The moment the autopilot was set up Boba pivoted.

“Did she know?”

Beroya was, for all the world, completely relaxed in his copilot seat. If not for his shoulders creeping up to his ears. 

“She knows more about the greater universe than me. For all I know she’s right-“

“Stop,” Boba was leaning forward, peeking under his downcast eyes to make sure Beroya could still meet the horizontal part if his visor.

“She wasn’t. That’s not what I meant. Did she know what happened to your covert when she said that to you?”

Beroya sighed, slumping.

“No, I-I don’t think so. We were insulated, and she was surprised to find I followed the creed the way I do. She couldn’t have known.”

Boba didn’t sit back up, but he did shift to get more comfortable. He hadn’t asked, didn’t want to push, but he understood that Beroya came from a sect that took the creed a bit more literally than most. That’s why he never asked his name and did his best to give him privacy for meal times.

Did this group have some kind of specific political power? As traditionalists they would sway the more secular clans, but as a group that usually didn’t hold much love for Mandalore as a planet they would lose those who do. 

Boba examined everything he knew about Beroya so far. What made  _him_ a threat to Kryze? He had been raised on Mandalore for a while, but his reaction to Boba saying his father was a foundling made him think Beroya was as well. He claimed to not know how children acted on Mandalore, which would mean he was raised in a fighting corps without being adopted. Yes, he wore full beskar, but he also wore an unfamiliar signet. A good warrior to earn a full set without it being an heirloom, excellent even, but that didn’t make him a threat to the throne. Kryze didn’t care much for anything but familial ties as far as that went. Was Beroya raised by an old clan, without being adopted? 

Did this have some connection to his ad? He was almost definitely a jetii if that light show was anything to go by. 

No, whatever this was, it was solely on the man, not the child. Whoever he was, Kryze considered him somewhat important, which meant his lineage had a star in it somewhere. Beroya didn’t seem to be aware. That was a good thing for now. 

The jump was too short. Boba would have to finish processing all this later.

“Well, while I wouldn’t put it past her to cross that line, I guess you should take the whole encounter as a complement.”

Beroya snorted and shifted forward, ending up with his head next to Boba’s, almost as if he was whispering something in his ear, “A complement huh? It didn’t feel like one.”

“She followed it up with a sales pitch on why you should help her, right? That’s because she wants people on her side; strong, skilled people, but she wants them to think they could never aspire to her lofty goals,” he waved his hand sarcastically in the air at that, “Whether thats due to not knowing enough about the galaxy,” Boba tilted his head, just enough to let the distinct ring of beskar on beskar echo through the cockpit. He straightened, glancing down at Beroya sitting frozen where he left him and pivoting his seat to prep for arrival, “Or being a clone. She doesn’t actually care. Kryze just wants to make sure no one gets in her way.”

Which was right where she seemed to consider him and Boba to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
> beroya- bounty hunter  
>   
> buy’ce- helmet  
>   
> ad- kid  
>   
> ka’ra- stars  
>   
> Kyr’tsad- Death Watch  
>   
> Cuy’val Dar- “those who no longer exist”  
>   
> Ha’at Mando’ade- True Mandalorians  
>   
> beskar’gam- set of armor  
>   
> dar’manda- not mandalorian, disgraced  
>   
> mand’alor- sole ruler  
>   
> haar’chak- damn it  
>   
> di’kut- idiot  
>   
> kute- armor undersuit, i'm calling that tan fabric a kute even though i dont think it quite matches


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, Beroya.”

Din was white-knuckling the armrests as Boba worked his way through more and more TIEs. Din was an experienced pilot, so normally the whirling lights wouldn’t bother him, but watching the ships wheel in and out of view while not being the one causing it was making him a bit woozy.

And now, apparently, Fett wanted to make small talk.

“You should really be focusing on flying, Fett,” Din said it through his teeth. If Fett took offense, he didn’t make it obvious.

“Don’t insult me. It’s amazing they managed to take off.”

Fett punctuated that with a barrel roll that took out another TIE.

Whatever that had been, teasing or flirting a few days ago, Din decided it didn’t matter. He hated Fett. So much. 

“What do you want, Fett.”

Fett caught another TIE and said, “I never told you what I was up to after my last job.”

Oh. Really? Now? “Don’t worry about it. Please just... focus on what you’re doing.”

Fett turned over his shoulder and looked at him for a split-second. 

“What, you hear a fragment of a sob story and you trust me forever? You’ve got to get better at vetting the people around your kid, Beroya.”

Din was going to kill him.

“No, it wasn’t the sob story. It was- I have a friend on Tattooine, Mos Eisley. She’s a mechanic. I had her run the Slave’s code for when it was last checked into and out of a dock on world. The last check-in had been five years ago, check out was only a few standard months.”

Din paused as the stars whirled outside the transparisteel again. 

“Sure, maybe you took a different ship. But then why come back to it after years, why abandon your armor? I was already most of the way to trusting you, I just needed confirmation.”

What seemed to be the last TIE exploded and the Slave turned back toward the light cruiser.

“This was your father’s ship. You’d never leave it. And, you said your jobs for the Empire were hunting Jedi. If you left that last one alive, then you must not have been working for them when you disappeared, right? The second Death Star blew pretty soon after that. You worked for them, but you aren’t now. Not to mention, you’re Mando. You’d never hurt a kid, not on purpose.”

Fett had a gleeful air when he was bringing down TIEs, but now he was just quiet. Thoughtful. To be sure he understood, Din said:

“I trust you more than I trust Kryze, Koska, and that doctor.”

He could hear the grin on his face as Fett turned and said, “Not the Marshal?”

Din smiled back, “I’ve known her since before she was a Marshal. It was a bit of a shocking development, actually.”

They were coming in for a landing. As he unlocked the gyroscope in the cargo bay and prepped the ship for landing, Fett grumbled, “Well, as long as it was shocking.”

Fett locked up his ship by turning the gyroscopic interior out of alignment with the cockpit and stealing one of the control chips, hiding it in a pouch. He openly told the doctor that he didn’t really care if he ran away, just if he took Fett’s ship when he did, and gestured at the surrounding hangar invitingly. The doctor hadn’t seemed too excited to leave the floor of the cargo bay.

Sneaking through the ship was largely uneventful. Having someone, especially someone who understood how he fought and was just as good if not better at it, at his back felt a bit nicer than Din really wanted to deal with at the moment. When they ran into groups of ‘troopers they were dead long before they had the chance to call anyone else.

Those Darktroopers though, those were troubling.

Even with how swiftly and easily he and Fett had worked through the ship up until then, they barely arrived in time to shut the door, and one still got out.

Din readied his spear and the data tube, Fett nodded to him and crouched, moving swiftly and keeping the thing after him. It tried exceptionally hard to kill him, Din is positive he heard a broken rib in there somewhere, but with its attention split the droid couldn’t do much to stop Din from shutting it down.

Now, there’s nothing left between him and his son.

Fett moves a bit stiffly, limping slightly at Din’s back as they clear the last few Stormtroopers and get to Grogu’s cell.

As the door opens, Fett gives a wheezing, delirious laugh over internal comms at the sight of Moff Gideon standing above Grogu, Darksaber out. 

“I know they’re probably... to keep him from using the force or something but... Tiniest binders I’ve ever seen.”

Din wanted to be annoyed, but he wasn’t.

Gideon demanded his blaster, so as he kicked it across the cell Din asked privately, “That bad?” Then toward Gideon, “Give me the kid.”

Fett wheezed again, leaning against the door, carefully out of Gideon’s sight. 

“I’ll be okay. Though, I guess Reeves was right. I’ll be wanting some bacta in a bit.”

Din forced himself not to jerk his face over to check for bleeding, crushed limbs, anything that he had been too singleminded to see. 

Gideon was gloating.

“The kid is just fine where he is.” He waved the Darksaber, it buzzing slightly at the movement, “Mesmerizing, isn’t it? Used to belong to Bo-Katan. Yes. I know you’ve been traveling with Bo-Katan. A friendly piece of advice, assume that I know everything. Like the fact that your wrist launcher has fired its one and only salvo. And that Boba Fett is standing to your left, back from the grave.”

Din tilted his head. They weren’t counting on surprise, though it would have been nice.

“Where is this going?”

Gideon was overjoyed to answer, “This is where it’s going. I’m guessing that Bo-Katan and her boarding party have arrived at the bridge, seeking me or, more accurately, this. But I’m not there. And I imagine that they’ve killed everyone on the bridge, being the murderous savages that they are. And now, they’re beginning to panic. You see, she wants this. Do you know why? Because it brings power. Whoever wields this sword… has the right to lay claim to the Mandalorian throne.”

In his ear, Fett said, “Oh no Beroya, I guess... we’d better surrender. He almost... knows what the Darksaber is.”

Din ignored him and said, “You keep it. I just want the kid.”

Gideon acted surprised, “Very well. I’ve already got what I want from him. His blood. All I wanted was to study his blood. This Child is extremely gifted… and has been blessed with rare properties that have the potential to bring order back to the galaxy. I see your bond with him. Take him, but you will leave my ship immediately and we will go our separate ways.”

Fett wheezed a laugh, Din caught the motion of him nodding out of the corner of his visor.

“Listen, you decided you trusted me, right? Gideon here isn’t gonna beat you in hand to hand, and I’m not much help... in that fight right now. I’ll grab the kid, get him to the bridge to see about taking those... karking binders off. You can grab Gideon for your cop friend and be up there with us in ten.”

Din mumbled, “Except Kryze wants the Darksaber.”

“Well, if he actually follows through with... peaceful surrender of the kid... then we can just walk up to the bridge and point Dune... and Kryze in the right direction. Sure gets rid of Kryze clean.”

Din carefully walked forward with his hands up, reaching for the child.

Fett was laughing weakly in his ear as the saber came down across his back, but Din had a feeling he wasn’t laughing at him.

Fett really didn’t make it all that far with the kid.

The little guy was fascinated with him though, Din could tell he was confused to find someone else wearing armor in front of Din without there being a fight about it.

The fight with Gideon had been too easy and over too soon.

This wasn’t to say he didn’t try to kill Din, but he was trying to lead the fight across the small ship and to the bridge, and it did not last nearly long enough to make it that far.

So now Din was walking along, Darksaber in one hand, Grogu in the other, and Gideon stumbling along in front in the binders from Din’s belt. He kept the injured Fett to his left, trusting the kid to be able to hold on if he had to use his hand to catch Fett.

He was in rough shape. At first. Fett would glance over at the saber in Din’s hand and chuckle, but that got weaker as time went on and now he seemed more focused on continuing to move forward than anything else. 

Though, he tried to muster something up as they walked onto the bridge and Kryze spotted Din.

“Fennec, Fett’s hurt. Fett, go sit down, let her check on you.” 

Fett snorted, “Elek, ‘alor,” and sat off to the side with Fennec. 

Kryze’s hands went over her blasters as Din walked forward with the ‘saber, Grogu, and Gideon, the Imperial eventually just laying across the steps next to her, gazing up smugly.

“What happened?” she asked, tense.

Cara, from across the room, crowed, “He brought him in alive, that’s what happened. Now the New Republic’s gonna have to double the payment.”

“That’s not what she’s talking about,” Gideon sneered from the floor. Then, directed at Kryze, he said, “Why don’t you kill him now and take it? It’s yours now.”

Kryze visibly considered it.

Din was tired. He hadn’t slept for longer than a few hours since Grogu was taken. Now that he had him back, the temptation to fall asleep where he stood was strong. He didn’t want another fight, especially since he didn’t want the laser sword to begin with.

“Now,” he said, flipping the blade and handing it to Kryze, “It belongs to her.”

She stared at it, affronted and conflicted, seemingly even closer to stabbing Din.

Gideon was grinning even wider on the floor, “She can’t take it. It must be won in battle. In order for her to wield the Darksaber again, she would need to defeat you in combat.”

Oh.

Please, no.

“I yield. It’s yours.” Din even presented it on an open palm, bowing his head.

Absolutely delighted, Gideon crooned, “Oh, no. It doesn’t work that way. The Darksaber doesn’t have power. The story does. Without that blade, she’s a pretender to the throne.”

In Din’s ear, Fett grumbled, “She wasn’t before?”

He heard Fennec slap his armor.

“He’s right,” Kryze said, prompting a loud snort from Fett and another metallic tap from Fennec. 

No.

“Come on, just take it,” Din hadn’t lowered the handle from where he had been presenting it before.

Kryze just stared, fingers twitching.

“What’s wrong, princess?” Fett. Externally. Dank Ferrik. “Too many witnesses this time?”

Her head jerked toward him and she began stalking over. Fennec took a protective position in front of Fett. In his arms, Grogu began reaching toward him, as if sensing the most dangerous spot in the room and instinctively wanting to fill the space.

Suddenly, every alarm in the bridge went off, the room glowing deep red.

Kryze froze and turned toward the door, shooting a glare at Fett, who managed to look smug from the ground. Fennec, satisfied as Kryze backed off, went to a nearby control panel and said, “The ray shields have been breached. We’re being boarded.”

Kryze barked, “How many life forms?”

Shaking her head, Fennec replied, “None.”

Speaking of smug from the ground, Gideon said, “You’re about to face off with the Darktroopers. You had your hands full with one. Let’s see how you do against a platoon.”

Din regrets not at least knocking him out.

Grogu is still pulling toward Fett, though he at least seems conflicted about it. As if he doesn’t want to leave Din’s arms, but feels he has a job to do.

“You want to heal him, don’t you?” Din said fondly, but exasperatedly, down at him.

Grogu only pulled harder.

With a look at Cara so that she’d come babysit Gideon, Din walked across the bridge to Fett, hearing the blast doors close to his left.

“Did you or Fennec have any bacta?”

Fett looked over at him as if just realizing he was there. He took a moment to process, then said, “No. Don’t worry about me, I’m breathing easier now that Fennec put me back together. We should be more worried about those ‘troopers.”

Din shook his head. Yeah, don’t worry about the guy who had his chest just about caved in by the giant robot earlier.

Din looked down at Grogu, saying, “Okay. you can help a little, but don’t push yourself too hard, okay?” As he gently set him in Fett’s lap.

Almost instantly Fett scooped him up, holding him high enough that the kid started digging at the fabric around his neck. Fett sighed, “Well, I wish I could be sarcastic about instantly feeling better.”

Din replied, “Just wait,” as Grogu huffed and just shoved his little clawed hand past Fett’s helmet seal.

Fett instantly relaxed, no longer favoring areas of his torso and shifting Grogu in his grip to hold him more comfortably.

“Neat trick,” he mumbled, a bit of wonder in his voice, then quietly, “I think I really will have to keep you two after all.”

As Din tried to process what that meant and how to respond, Reeves called, “An X-wing.”

Cara drawled, “One X-wing? Great. We’re saved.”

Next to him, Fett carefully pulled Grogu’s hand out from under his helmet.

“If that’s the X-wing I’m thinking of,” Fett whispered to Grogu, “Then it sounds like the Jedi your buir’s been looking for found you instead.”

Grogu cooed, reaching up at Fett’s face. Gently, he gathered both tiny claws into his hand. “No, thank you ad’ika, but I’ll be okay now. Really. You have to conserve some strength, okay?”

Din could just see a screen showing security footage of the hangar from his spot on the floor. Slowly, Din stood and walked over to it, keeping Fett and Grogu still in his line of sight. As he watched, a man in all black leapt out of the X-wing, took one look at the Slave, and took off in an inhuman sprint.

So quiet Din could only hear him through comms, Fett continued, “I know a lot of what I was told about Jedi when I was your size was probably wrong. But, if any of it was right,” Din just caught Fett’s fingers gently rubbing Grogu’s back, “He’s going to take you from your buir, isn’t he?”

Grogu made a sad noise as a green blade appeared on the screen, cutting through the Darktroopers like they weren’t even there.

“Do you want us to stop him?”

Din carefully focused on Grogu without shifting his helmet. He didn’t want to pressure him into doing something he might regret just because it might hurt his feelings.

He watched as Grogu shifted, slumping a little and seeming resigned.

Fett shrugged, “Okay, ad’ika. As long as it’s your choice, alright?”

Distantly, Din heard blaster shots and shouting behind him, but none of them were directed toward his kid and Fett hadn’t reacted, so he didn’t care. Grogu was shifting nervously on Fett’s lap.

“Hey,” the hand that wasn’t on Grogu’s back shifted to the tip of one ear, “No one’s dying today. Sure, you won’t be with him all the time, but,” Din could hear the smile growing in Fett’s voice, “Skywalker’s a softie. I’m sure you can convince him to let you visit your dad. And if you can’t,” Grogu’s head tilted and his ears twitched as he was gently scratched on the head, “We’ll just have to steal you back every once in a while, huh? You can hardly be blamed for some meddling Mandalorian antics can you?”

“Ready?” Kryze barked from behind Din. He turned and peeked over his shoulder, seeing everyone spread out behind cover and Gideon passed out next to her. Apparently she had been the one shot earlier, a few blaster marks still marring her paint.

“Ready for what?” Fett called from his spot in the open, “The shrapnel from whats left of those Darktroopers?”

Kryze sneered under her helmet and said, “No, actually I mean the angry, unknown Jedi about to start cutting through the door. I would assume that you would be the most kriffing concerned with that, or did your family history with Jedi improve while I wasn’t looking?”

Calmly Fett stood and crossed the room to Din’s side, depositing Grogu into his arms.

“You and I both know that Jedi isn’t going to risk hurting the kid, and that’s all he’s here for. If he decides he wants some really late revenge, that’s our business.” Gently flicking his ear, Fett continued to Grogu, “I may not have been born on Mandalore, but at least I was raised well enough not to curse in front of kids, right ad’ika?” Loud enough to be heard across the room though, of course.

Feeling the weight of a pair of blasters turned in his vague direction, Din said, “Open the doors.”

Glancing over his shoulder, he could see Kryze and Reeves’ helmets bobbing slightly, showing that they were arguing privately.

“I said, open the doors.”

The Nite Owls were still bickering, so Fennec said, “You’re crazy,” reached over, and pulled the release on the door.

In the now open doorway, the man with the black cloak and emerald sword stood surrounded with dust and debris. His boots and belt buckle shone green as he stepped forward and swung at Fett, Din just barely getting the Darksaber up in time for the blades to clash, Grogu clinging to his left arm and hiding his face. 

Through their helmets Fett said, “Okay, so I miscalculated. Think I can borrow that spear?” As if he hadn’t just been nearly decapitated in front of him. 

“I’d really rather this didn’t come to a fight,” Din grunted back, pushing against the surprising amount of force coming from the hooded figure.

Fett sighed and said, “Skywalker.”

“Boba Fett,” the hood returned, “Still hunting Jedi for the Empire?”

He shrugged, “Empire’s gone, I’m sure you’ve noticed. They can’t afford me anymore. I was on the other side this time.”

“And if I don’t believe you?”

Fett pointedly turned his helmet toward Grogu. “If you would stop scaring him, you could ask the kid.”

Slowly, the hood followed Fett’s visor to Grogu, still clinging to Din. Gradually, the pressure against the Darksaber released until the emerald blade was twisted to the side and extinguished, Din doing the same a moment later. As he clipped the hilt to his belt, Skywalker used his other hand to push back his hood, revealing a mess of blond hair and a pair of eyes still watching Fett suspiciously. 

He kept Fett in front of him as he crouched in front of Grogu, who somehow burrowed deeper into Din’s arm. 

“Hey, I’m sorry to scare you. My name’s Luke, what’s yours?”

Din was about to say that he doesn’t speak yet, but as he took in a breath Skywalker said, smiling reassuringly, “Grogu, huh? No, I’m sorry, I don’t remember you. I was born after everything was already gone. You do remind me of an old friend though. Did you know a Master Yoda?”

Grogu had squeezed Din’s arm despairingly at not being recognized, but his ear twitched and he squinted at Skywalker at the mention of the old friend.

Skywalker nodded, “Yeah, he trained me! He was a really good master.”

The kid finally dug himself out of Din’s arm, turning and facing Skywalker head on. 

Their conversation lapsed completely into their heads, like it had been with Ahsoka. Din didn’t want to look away, but he did to glance at Fett, who simply shrugged.

After a while, Skywalker laughed and said, “Okay, I think I can do that.” He stood, brushing off his pants and looking at Fett. “I owe you an apology. I shouldn’t have made a snap judgement like that, I’m sorry.”

Fett seemed taken aback, but when he nodded Skywalker moved on to Din, “Grogu here has a series of requests, and none of them should be too much trouble to fill. The location of my Temple is secret for the members’ safety, but if Grogu comes with me I’ll give you the location. You’ll be allowed to visit whenever you like, though some separation from family is important for training so I have to ask that you don’t live there, or visit too frequently. We also discussed clearing yours and Boba’s names in the New Republic, and I told him I would try my best, though I can’t promise anything. He also wants to say that they took his necklace.”

Din blinked for a moment before reaching down and gently moving Grogu’s robes aside, looking for the cord from his mythosaur charm. Nothing. 

Fett interjected, “Why would they take a necklace?”

“Apparently he kept trying to stab nurses with it,” Skywalker responded, grimacing.

In his helmet Din heard, “Beroya, if you ever get tired of him I’m here to adopt in a heartbeat.”

Din handed Grogu to Fett and stalked back to Gideon, stopping and looking over at Cara.

“How out is he?”

She shrugged and said, “Out, but if you shook him a little he would probably wake up.”

He bent, grabbing Gideon by the collar and propping him up against the nearest console, shaking him until his head stopped lolling aimlessly against his shoulders. “Hey. What happened to the necklace?”

Half awake and groggy, Gideon only managed a mumble in response.

Din shook him again until his eyes opened and he glanced around, wide eyes settling on Skywalker as if they were glued there.

“Don’t worry about him,” Din said before repeating, “What happened to the necklace the child wore?”

Gideon smiled slowly and said, “Oh the mythosaur skull? Destroyed, I’m afraid. Hope it wasn’t too important to you.”

Din managed not to snarl or hit him, but did pass him off to Cara, and whatever she did with him wouldn’t be undeserved.

Quietly, consolingly, Fett said, “It was beskar, wasn’t it?”

Privately, Din replied, “A piece of my buir’s kom’rk. Yeah.”

Fett hissed, “Maybe that one can die for free,” seeming to everyone else as if he was calmly bouncing Grogu as he watched Din come back empty handed.

Din wracked his brain, trying to find something else he could give Grogu. The concept of Ka’ra, powerful ancestors watching over you through pieces of their beskar, wasn’t literal but it was still important. Tradition. It was what marked Grogu as a foundling. Without his piece of beskar, the Manda wouldn’t know to bring him home.

Fett turned away from Skywalker at the last moment, facing Din and handing him Grogu. He took a loose grip of Grogu’s arm, guiding it back towards his helmet, though this time he moved the fabric at his throat so that Grogu could just touch him there.

“I think this is the closest thing to privacy we’re getting,” he said quickly over their channel, “I don’t want to impose, but for the moment we’re stuck and strapped for time.”

Grogu cooed, blinking up at him as he looked over at Din.

“I’d like to offer my Ka’ra, just as a placeholder. Just in case.”

Din straightened, shocked, “I can’t ask you to do that, Fett, I-“

“Good thing you’re not asking, then, isn’t it?”

There was another smile under that helmet, small and shaky. “I have my father’s armor. The full set. I don’t need the separate piece anymore. I can’t let him leave with nothing.”

Din wanted to think this through. The implications of Fett wanting to do this, even if Grogu was a founding he was Din’s foundling and he couldn’t help but make the connection.

He didn’t have the energy to sort it all out now, but he already knew the right thing to do.

Din nodded, “Okay. Thank you. I- Thank you.”

Fett nodded back, reaching into one of the pouches on his belt and pulling out a small, triangular piece of beskar on a long cord.

“It’s not a mythosaur, but it is beskar.”

As he moved to place it over Grogu’s neck, Din grabbed the charm. It was the tip of a grapnel line, the sharp edges sanded down to avoid cutting the wearer.

“It’s not sharp either, but you’ll have an easier time stabbing evil nurses with it. And the best part is,” Fett whispered down at Grogu conspiratorially, “I’ll know if someone takes this one, the moment it happens. It’s magic.”

Grogu made grabby hands at the barb until Din passed it to him, Fett tying off the loop to a more reasonable length. 

“There, now all that’s left is,” Fett coaxed Grogu’s hand off his neck, rushing to the next point, “You and the kid have a choice to make. Do you want to step into the hall?”

Din glanced at Skywalker, who was examining the ceiling with great interest.

“I already cleared it with blondie while you were talking to Gideon.”

Din, still speechless, nodded and walked out of the room, turned, and walked until they were completely out of view and earshot. He leaned against the wall and slumped to the floor, clutching his ad to his chest.

Looking down, he was still fascinated with his new toy, turning it over and over in his hands. Thankfully, he hadn’t tried to put it in his mouth, yet.

Leave it to Fett to find a way to give an ad a knife early, even by Mando standards.

“All right pal,” Din held Grogu out a little to look at him, brushing a thumb over his cheek. “It’s time to go.”

Grogu blinked up at him with those giant, knowing eyes, his ears twitching back and down. He dropped the charm and reached up for Din’s buy’ce, seemingly wanting to do the same thing he had with Fett. 

“I’m not injured, bud. Just tired.” 

Grogu just opened and closed his hand. Glancing back to where he already heard arguing on the bridge, Din popped the seal on his helmet, allowing Grogu to reach up toward him, but not leaning far enough down for him to reach his cheek just yet. Grogu wiggled his little hand between his covered chin and the lip of his helmet impatiently.

“Wait, I just,” Grogu stilled and blinked again, waiting. “I just want you to know, when you’re with the Jedi. I don’t want you to feel forced into being a Mandalorian as well, and if, well if you can’t be both I want you to know that I wont be hurt if you choose them, okay? They were your people first.”

Grogu blinked and wiggled his hand more instantly, straining up to try and reach past his kute. Sighing, Din leaned down to allow Grogu to touch his cheek.

The rush of feeling and images hit him like it was trying to exit orbit.

First he saw himself, reaching a single finger out to wiggle at his face, a clawed hand coming into view and grabbing it.

A short rush of fear as he registered a transparisteel dome over him and tubes running alongside, criss crossing his vision, then relief as Din came into view, scooping him up and whisking him away.

A pleading sort of annoyance as Mayfeld pretended to drop him, his focus never leaving Din’s hands.

Him, crumpled on the ground in that cantina, having just told Cara to leave him to his warrior’s death. Heat washed over his head, singing his ears. A surge of protectiveness rushed through him as he pulled himself out of the bag, moving to the middle of the room and raising both arms.

A wash of terror and sorrow as the Krayt rushed down on Din’s head, then triumphant joy as he arced out of it’s mouth, blowing it up as he went.

Simple joy and exhilaration as Nevarro whirled outside of the Razor Crest, even if it was tinged with a hint of nausea.

Apologetic, complex terror as the Darktroopers carried him up, like Din once had, wondering why he wasn’t following close behind, hoping that he could be forgiven and rescued.

Anger, fear, and frustration as another hand reached for him, wearing gloves since he’d bit them and clawed at them so many times. Grogu had watched his buir work around armor too though, and snatched his pendant from his chest to valiantly jab at the nurse’s skin between the end of their sleeve and the top of the thick glove. By some miracle it actually drew blood, but then the pendant was snatched quickly away, breaking the chain around his neck. 

Grogu had absolutely rejoiced when he saw Din in the doorway, celebrating that he would be going home and his apparent forgiveness. He was fascinated with Fett, sensing an familiar air about him and liking the way he talked to him like his buir did, like he understood what was being said. When he had asked about whether he wanted to leave, Grogu tried to project reluctance, but duty. He didn’t want to go, but he wanted to be as helpful to his buir as he could. The Jedi were just teachers, they wouldn’t be his new home.

When Din came back to himself he was crying, his forehead resting against Grogu’s.

“You-you did nothing wrong, ad’ika,” Din whispered, “I was chasing you from the moment they landed on that rock.”

His clawed hand was still on his cheek so Din felt the wonder-joy-apology as Grogu did.

Despite himself, Din huffed a short laugh, saying, “This would have been so useful months ago.”

Was that a spark of indignation? “Hey, don’t get smart with me. You know you could just ask.”

There was a rising tide of acceptance as Grogu pulled his hand away, Din understood that he had just not wanted to pry. 

“Wait,” Din carefully kept Grogu’s hand on his face and closed his eyes, and with as much emotion as he could to convey the _meaning_ , “Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’ad... ” Even with what he had just been shown Din wanted to be sure that Grogu wanted this. He still wanted to give him an out. When all he felt in return was that wonder-warm feeling, Din finished, “ ...Grogu. Kar’taylir darasuum. Always. Don’t-don’t forget.”

When the little claw left his cheek, and took the warm feeling with it, Din’s eyes flew open. Grogu hadn’t gone far. He put both claws in the dips of Din’s buy’ce and gently pulled him down, pressing his forehead harder into his.

Din gave him a wet laugh and gently pushed back. 

**Author's Note:**

> translations:  
> buy’ce- helmet  
> beroya- bounty hunter  
> mesh’la- beautiful. similar to the word for jewel  
> hut’uun- coward. worst insult


End file.
